


To Higher Ground

by potted_planted



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt James T. Kirk, Hurt/Comfort, James T. Kirk & Spock Friendship, away mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22016836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potted_planted/pseuds/potted_planted
Summary: When a shuttle crash leaves Jim and Spock stranded on an alien planet, an injured Jim has to learn that not all responsibilities are his to take on.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Spock
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

As he was waking up, his breath sounded loud in his ears. Jim Kirk had to claw his way back to conciousness, darkness clung to him and refused to let him go. But he forced his breathing to remain slow and steady, he refused to twitch.

He listened.

Something was dripping steadily into a puddle to his left, and for one gruesome moment he imagined it to be his own blood leaking from his body. He was lying on a hard floor, his legs pinned in place by something heavy. Around him, the groaning of durasteel strained far beyond its intended design specifications disturbed the silence in irregular intervals. A shuttle. Probably.

It came back to him, slowly. He had been in a shuttle. With his first officer. On a reconnaissance mission to a planet that was shrouded in ion storms, making transporters and most of the ship’s sensors useless, but the data that they had been able to obtain had hinted at considerable dilithium deposits on the planet’s surface, hence, the mission. No signs of higher lifeforms had been reported by the science department, but then again, this did not necessarily have to mean that there weren’t any.

Jim Kirk cautiously opened his eyes, still not moving, still not changing his breathing rhythm. He was surrounded by the twisted remains of Galileo 5. Now sharing the lamentable fate of Galileo 1 to 4. Thank God they were not taking this out of his paycheck. He turned his head and got a good view of the pilot chair, torn from its anchoring on the floor, as well as the navigation console that still sprouted a shower of sparks every now and then. Yeah. Pretty much unsalvageable. 

In Starfleet Academy he had performed at the top of his class in each and every survival simulation he had taken. He had set new record scores on more than one. His instructors had loved it. He, not so much. But here, he had not been taken prisoner, he was not being tortured, he was not being starved. Should be easy. Step one: get up. He experimentally tried to move his arms a bit (no problem there), his legs (still stuck), his torso (ohshitohshitohshit). 

“Captain, you are awake“

It took all of his willpower to turn the scream into a gasp but Kirk could not quite suppress the involuntary movement. For a moment he got intimately reaquainted with is own personal universe of pain. Then he sighed. Shallow breaths only. He could do that. Talking was limited to short sentences until further notice. 

“What is our status?“ 

“We were caught in a particularly strong flare of the ion storm. It incapacitated our navigational sensor array and caused intermittent impulse engine failure. Our current location is at a distance of approximately 10.6 kilometers from the intended landing site. The ongoing atmospheric ion storms preclude us from contacting Enterprise at the moment.“ 

And would probably continue to do so for the forseeable future. 

“How long was I out?“

“Approximately 4.8 minutes, Captain.“

This was not his first survival scenario. It would not be his last. And on some level, Kirk was glad that he was stranded with Spock. It saved him from keeping up crew morale – while Spock was not entirely without emotions, he could definitely keep a lid on them without external help. Then again, it was… well… it was Spock, the guy who had done his utmost to choke Kirk to death on the bridge oft he Enterprise. After Nero, it was Spock himself who had requested the position of First Officer aboard Enterprise. They had struck an uneasy truce, but privately, Kirk sometimes wondered whether it would not have been better for both of them if Spock had transferred off ship. 

Slowly, ever so slowly because it bloody hurt, Kirk raised his upper body from the floor, supported by his arms. He looked in better shape than he felt. His legs were stuck under console remains but that, Kirk thought, could be remedied.

“Can you lift the console?“

“I certainly can, Captain. I appear to be unharmed.“

Was that smugness in his First Officer’s voice?

“Just get this off me.“ 

Kirk carefully lay back down. Some more rustling to his left, and his First Officer came into his field of view. Indeed, Spock looked pretty much unharmed by the whole ordeal. His First Officer bent down and lifted the whole console up into the air. It caused a minimum of jostling and still Kirk had to squeeze his eyes shut. 

“What is your status, Captain?“

Well, THAT was actually a good question, wasn’t it?

“Medkit, please.“

A gray case was placed to his right and opened. Kirk made no attempt to sit back up. He grabbed the medical tricorder first and sent it whirring. The output was a longer list than the tiny screen could show. Not good. While he could not quite make sense of the long string of chemical formulae, that could simply be his allergies. He scrolled down to entries he could actually decipher. Ribs 8, 9 cracked on the right, ribs 7, 8, 9 broken in the left accompanied by minor pulmonary lacerations. That did explain the chest pain. Dermal abrasions, nothing major. Fractured clavicle. Huh. He had not been feeling that one. Signs of past malnourishment. Scar tissue on his lower back. Tiny, badly mended bone fractures… 

Kirk snorted. He refused to let his past be judged by a machine. He dropped the tricorder back into the case and groped for the small portable osteogenerator. 

“Two cracked ribs, three broken ribs, one fractured clavicle. Have to fix this.“ 

Kirk fumbled to set up the osteogenerator next to his right side but it was taken out of his hand almost immediately. 

“I feel it wise to inform you that osteogeneration performed by untrained personnel can lead to severe complications.“

“Can’t take… breaths. Need to be able to… move!“

His ribs really hurt now and his breath came in shallow gasps. He closed his eyes.

“Very well, Captain. Let me assist you.“

Jim Kirk was more focussed on not passing out from the pain than anything else, but he heard what could have been the whirring of the medical tricorder and felt warm hands carefully straightening and repositioning his limbs. He heard the osteogenerator being set up and switched on, and was greeted by the familiar humming. It felt as if tiny hands were tugging at him from the inside, and combined with the pain from his injuries, made him drift in and out of consciousness until the pain abated and he slept.

*****

He woke up without disorientation. His head was resting on something soft and when he opened his eyes he saw that he was covered with a blanket. The osteogenerator was gone. This time, when he tried to move, he could do so relatively pain free. He got up to a sitting position, took an experimental deep breath, then slowly got to his feet. For the first time since the crash, he took a good look around. 

The medkit was still next to his makeshift cot, and when he opened it he found the osteogenerator neatly folded inside. He took the medical tricorder and performed another scan. The broken ribs were now listed under “mended breaks“. Great. Just great. Some fluid build-up in his lungs, nothing major. He took the dermal regenerator next, waving it over all scraps and bruises he could easily find, finally directing it towards the pulmonary tissue underneath the freshly mended ribs. 

“Misusing the dermal regenerator for deep tissue regeneration can lead to permanent tissue scarring and pain.“

This time, Kirk could not suppress a scream, and he dropped the dermal regenerator in the process.

“Commander Spock, could you please not sneak up on me, Goddammit!“

“I will endeavour to compensate for your human auditory system in the future.“ It sounded vaguely miffed to Kirk’s ears. “But my comment stands.“

“Yes, thank you very much, it will, however, keep me going here, which is kind of the point.“

He made another grab for the regenerator and used it to give a few more halfhearted waves over the area. Ah, what the hell, his heart just wasn’t in it anymore and it wasn’t very effective, anyway. He put the dermal regenerator back at its place in the medkit and turned to Spock, who was still standing by his side as if he had some more wisdom to impart.

“It should please you to hear that I have located both sources of water and nutrition on the planet.“

Kirk had to admit, the information gave him no small measure of relief. Living on emergency rations was feasible and Galileo had stocked enough to keep them going for a month (Kirk had insisted, he always does, no matter how strangely people look at him) but it would not have been pleasant. 

“That sounds promising, Commander. So let’s give the end of Galileo 5 some meaning. We are close to where we suspected the dilithium deposits to be, we might as well go and look for them. Also, we have to get off the planet at some point, so is there a mountain or an area where we might be less exposed to interference from the ion storms?“

“Indeed, captain. Approximately 20.7 kilometers from here there is a mountain range. However, I do not advise making the detour to the dilithium deposits at this time. Our first priority should be to contact the ship.“

“Why?“

“Because you are injured and in need of medical attention.“

“Don’t worry about me, Spock, I am more than capable of holding my own. I will not have you go for the deposit alone and Enterprise needs the stuff badly. Are the excavator and the hover-platform still operational?“

“They were not but I have been able to fix both in the meantime.“

“Then let’s stick to our plan and go for the deposit. We’ll take everything with us that we do not want to leave in the shuttle, we’ll get the dilithium, then get to higher ground and get Enterprise to beam us up.“

And Jim refused to think about what would happen if they didn’t find a spot from which they could be beamed up.

“Very well, Captain.“


	2. Chapter 2

They had loaded all of the equipment that they could conceivably need onto the hover platform, which now held their strapped-down excavator, the medkit, two survival packs, all of the emergency rations, the portable repair kit and – at Spock’s insistence – parts of the shuttle’s impulse engines. Jim had programmed it to follow them like a dog, and they had set off. Jim had cast one last, mournful gaze over his shoulder at Galileo 5, then the twisted remains of their shuttle had disappeared in the woods.

Trees soon gave way to grassland, where their progress became faster. Spock, walking a few paces ahead, consulted his tricorder from time to time and made slight adjustments to their direction. Jim, soon just focused on placing one leg in front of the other and breathing. His injured ribs had started throbbing again, and he strongly suspected that the build-up of fluids in his lung was getting worse from the way deep breaths rattled in his chest. So he tried to remain as quiet as possible. Jim Kirk was no stranger to pain and suffering, but he did not want to appear vulnerable in front of his first officer. 

One hour into their journey, Spock stopped. 

"Captain. I would like to respectfully suggest that you spend the remainder of the journey to the deposit on the hover platform."

Jim sighed.

"Spock. I do realize that I’m not at my best, but so far, I’m keeping up. Don’t worry about me."

"We have only four more hours until nightfall. It would be prudent to arrive at the site of the deposit with enought daylight to set up the excavator and a camp. We can be 35 % faster if you consent to being transported on the hover platform."

If Spock had managed to make his sound the least bit accusatory, Jim would have balked. But it merely sounded factual. And he was right. So Jim walked over to the hover platform and gingerly sat down beside the excavator. When Spock continued to look expectantly, Jim cautiously swung his legs up and lay down on his back. It needed a bit of a shuffle, but Jim fit in neatly in between the excavator and the scavenged parts of the impulse engine. 

The platform set into motion. The hover engine translated the unevenness of the ground into a gentle, swaying motion. Lulled by this, Jim closed his eyes and slept.

*****

When he came awake again, it was to darkness. He was covered in a blanket. The excavator was gone from his left hand side and working, judging from the sonorous humming that could be heard nearby. Even after those hours of sleep, Jim still felt groggy. He carefully maneuvered himself into a sitting position, then slipped off the platform.

Spock had not only set the excavator to work, he had also made headway into preparing their camp. Piles of blankets were on the ground on one side of a rock that was glowing from phaser fire. Spock was sitting on another rock across from Jim, munching on what appeared to be emergency rations, a canteen next to him. When Jim walked over to his first officer, he was handed an emergency ration as well as a canteen of his own. Just as Jim was starting to sit down, a grinding noise could be heard and the humming stopped. In one smooth motion, Spock had put aside his ration bar, whipped out his tricorder and activated it.

"The excavator blades have caught on a granite vein that had previously been shielded by the dilithium. The blades are bent but salvageable."

Jim actually managed to beat Spock to the repair kit stashed away on the hover platform. As he was struggling to remove the straps that had secured the load on the platform, his breath came in short gasps. 

"Captain."

His first officer was standing a few meters off, arms hanging to his sides, looking somewhat bereft. Jim stopped his efforts and turned towards his first officer.

"Why do you persist in trying to perform a task that I, at the moment, am clearly in the better position to carry out? Your injuries have become aggravated again, it would be prudent to let me carry on on my own. Please refrain from being illogical, this will only slow us down and could even be detrimental to your survival."

However innocuous the tone, this rubbed Jim the wrong way.

"I’m still more than capable of doing my share of the work, Mr. Spock."

"This is not a contest."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Do you trust me?"

Jim exhaled, his anger suddenly gone. Of course he did. But he could see why Spock might question this here and now. 

"I do."

"Would it not be prudent, then, to make use of my superior strength for the remainder of this mission?"

Not only for the remainder of the mission. And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? What a time and place for introspection, Jim thought. But this discussion was clearly important to Spock, and maybe they should have had it months ago. So Jim decided to meet Spock halfway with a few truths of his own.

"Spock. You probably cannot only carry out this mission on your own but also most of the missions Enterprise has been given so far. Heck, I have to ask you all the time how stuff is done because I should have had not only more time to graduate from Starfleet Academy but also on active ship duty to learn all of this and get some routine. I’m aware of the fact that I did not. I’m doing it and I’m getting there, so no worries, all I ask you is not to rub it in."

Spock seemed to weigh his answer. 

"This has never been my intention."

Jim sighed, again. He found himself doing that a lot on this away mission.

"I believe you but that does not change the situation."

"You do realize that your creativity in adverse situations constitutes a significant strength."

And that had more or less come out of the blue. Jim thought for a bit about the right words, about kind words. 

"Spock, I do feel that we could complement each other as a command team and ultimately, Starfleet must have thought the same, otherwise we would not have ended up where we are. But we don’t really click right now, probably through noone’s fault. We have to change that. I can promise that I will rely on you where it’s warranted, and this situation right now probably warrants it. But you have to meet me halfway. I need to know that you trust me as well, in my assessment of situations and in my decisions."

Spock made a face that seemed to indicate that he was giving the matter some serious consideration. 

"I can see that my actions and comments might have been construed as being less than supportive of your role at times. I will endeavour to do better in the future. But, Captain, let me assure you that I am more than satisfied in my role. Otherwise I would not be here. We will do better."

The question Jim really wanted to ask at this point was how many credits his Spock had spent on subspace conversations with the other Spock. But the truth was that he wanted to have this epic friendship that he had seen glimpses of during the mind-meld on Delta Vega, and, for the first time, he realized that Spock wanted that as well. But still, there were more immediate problems to be solved. 

"I hate feeling useless, Spock."

"Once I have freed the device you could program the excavator to navigate around the obstacle."

"Is that something you really need help with?"

"It is doubtful."

Jim laughed. "All right. I did manage to get us onto the planet surface in very few pieces, I’ll count this as a win for this mission and leave the rest in your capable hands."

Spock, bless him, actually looked relieved.

"Indeed, Captain. It would be advisable for you to eat, then sleep to conserve your strength for tomorrow. We have 23.4 kilometers to cover. While the terrain should not be difficult to navigate, we will have to gain quite some altitude."

Jim groaned. "Quit playing the mother hen! You’re beginning to sound like Bones!"

"Given my complete lack of avian characteristics I must conclude that this is yet another colorful human idiom. And I most certainly do not sound like Dr. McCoy. I will see you by the camp."

Jim chuckled, then obediently turned and went to sit down by the warm rocks.


	3. Chapter 3

The excavator had finished by morning, and after another uneventful meal consisting of water and ration bars they quickly wrapped everything up, with Spock doing the majority of the work and Jim carrying the blankets, and resumed their journey. 

On the way to the location that Spock had deemed most likely to allow not only for communication with Enterprise but also for beam-up, Jim could no longer hitch a ride on the hover platform. The excavator, filled to the brim with unrefined dilithium, together with the rest of what they had salvaged from Galileo 5, had maxed out the payload of the hover platform, which followed them sluggishly.

As they gained altitutde, the meadows gave way to an even more austere landscape, with few plants and many rocks. The slopes were gentle, which was the only good thing about essentially going up a mountain, Jim mused, as he maneuvered leaden limbs in careful steps. He could not afford to fall. Spock called for short breaks every 15 minutes or so, and Jim was grateful for each of them. At this point, he could only take laboured breaths. 

During the next break, he had to sit down on a boulder, head between his hands. He felt as if he was drowning. Belatedly, he registered the whirring of the medical tricorder next to his ear. Inwardly, he cringed. 

"I am reasonably certain that a triox shot would help in your condition and is not something that you are allergic to."

"Yes to both“, Jim gasped.

He flinched when the hypospray was pressed against his throat, but the shot gave him instantaneous and blessed relief.

"If you would allow me a comment.“

And there it was. Resignedly, Jim waved at Spock to go ahead.

"I have seen all readings of the medical tricoder. I do not wish to intrude upon you privacy. However, many of the readings list issues that are, in principle, treatable.“ 

Did this make him seem unhinged? Did he even care? And just when they were finally making progress. Jim sighed. 

"I had an eventful past before joining Starfleet. There just never seemed to be the time for it.“

"Even an eventful past does not usually include extended periods of malnutrition."

Sometimes, the universe might just be a better place if people did not insist on sticking their noses where they really did not belong, Jim thought, uncharitably. But then again, indifference hat been at the root of this particular mess, hadn’t it?

"Tarsus, Spock, I was on Tarsus IV."

Spock was silent for a long time. Yeah, part of the reason why Jim was not more forthcoming with this particular piece of his checkered past was that the people he told it to did not tend to take it all that well. But Spock surprised him with the next question.

"If you had a choice now, would you have the residual injuries treated?"

"Are you asking whether I cling to them out of some weird sense of nostalgia? I really don‘t. They tend to raise unnecessary questions. I do want them gone."

Although this was something of an utilitarian answer, Jim realized that this was the truth. He would probably experience some regret since his scars had been with him for such a long time. But there was nothing he could do about changing the past, he had accepted that and had moved on to a present, which, apparently, had people with pointy ears in it that actually cared about him, even if that sometimes manifested in a strange fashion. 

"Spock, I’m good to go again. Let’s move."

It took another nine thousand three hundred and thirteen steps as well as seven breaks and three ration bars and Jim had counted them all. He was sitting on another boulder, valiantly trying to regain his breath when the fact that Spock was not only speaking into his communicator but actually getting a response finally registered in his brain. 

"The captain will go first. He is in need of immediate medical attention."

Jim’s torso was in a world of pain, he felt weary to the bone and absolutely not inclined to argue with his first officer on this one. Nothing would be gained by him insisting on being beamed up last. Scotty, bless him, took the lack of protest as implicit approval. 

"Understood, Sir. One to beam up."

Jim exhaled. This was as far as he had had to keep himself together, and it was a good thing that the away mission ended when he was at the end of his rope, anyway. He allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction, at least until the transporter beam grabbed him and whisked him onto his ship, on whose transporter platform he collapsed immediately and bonelessly as soon as he had materialized. He saw crewmen with a stretcher approaching, followed by Bones whose mouth was moving, but he could not hear what was said over the white noise in his ears and, at last, that too faded to darkness.

*****

"So he told you that he would like his old injuries to be taken care of? Is that what you’re going to tell my future malpractice tribunal before they kick me out of Starfleet?"

"If you would like me to give a written statement, Doctor, I will do so. I can only state the truth. And please consider: when will you, as humans are so fond of saying, get the chance again?"

"Fuck you!"

"That is unlikely."

*****

When Jim became conscious again he was prone on his back, feeling very much afloat and strangely unconcerned about the whole experience. It took him a moment to recognize the smell and the sounds for what they were, unmistakeable signs of sickbay. When he opened gummy eyes to dim lights, the familiar view of Bones to the right side of his bed reassured him. To his left, Spock sat on a chair. Surprise briefly managed to register in his muddled brain. 

"Bones?" he managed, barely. 

Bones raised his head sleepily. "Wha‘?"

"Captain Kirk.“

"Status?“

"Don’t answer him, Spock, I have dibs on this idiot.“

"I fail to decipher your colorful idioms yet again, Doctor McCoy. The ship is well stocked with dilithium, Captain. I would declare our mission a success if it was not for the fact that I had to declare Galileo 5 a total loss.“

"Forms?“

"I have indeed filled in the appropriate forms concerning loss of Starfleet property in triplicate and forwarded them to the appropriate authorities.“

Maybe it was the painkillers but to Jim this sounded positively gleeful.

"Good.“ 

"How you can be awake right now is anyone’s guess, but let me help you with that.“

The familiar hiss to the side of his throat was proof of the fact that Bones still had not gone past his trigger-happy phase. Jim could feel himself fade away again and did not fight it.

*****

When Jim awoke the second time, there was no moment of disorientation and Sickbay lights were bright, indicating day shift. He no longer felt like a useless slab of meat and, when he experimentally took a deep breath, he could do so pain free. He had just turned onto his side, getting ready to slip off the biobed, when he heard steps approaching and Bones appeared around the corner.

"Oh no, you don’t.“

"Bones! You fixed me! I’m feeling really good!“

"You will feel good when I tell you to feel good!“

Jim rolled back onto his back and decided not to contradict this statement in order to facilitate his escape at a later time. When Bones turned his attention away from the diagnostic screens and towards Jim, it was with an uncharacteristically somber expression.

"Listen, kid, I have to tell you something. When you were brought in, Spock told me that you wanted to have your old injuries fixed as well. Well, there’s no time like the present, and since I had you in Sickbay anyway, I went ahead and did it. It took a while but they’re mostly gone."

Bones looked almost apprehensive, which he really shouldn’t, it made his face crunch up in a weird way. Jim unselfconsciously pulled up his shirt and then performed the necessary contortions on the biobed in order to find that, indeed, whatever he could see of his scars on his back had vanished. He had to assume that most if not all of the entries of the medical tricorder had suffered a similar fate.

He pulled his shirt back down and mulled over this new bit of information. Surprisingly, he felt mostly relief at no longer having his past advertised on his body. Bones was still waiting for his reaction. Jim smiled at him.

"Spock was right. You did good, Bones. Thanks."

Bones actually looked relieved, another strange expression, then his face relaxed into the usual scowl. 

"Took you long enough to realize!"

"Aww, Bones, nice to know that you care. How long was I out?"

"Two days. And don’t even think about leaving Sickbay before you’re cleared to go! Another two days minimum! I had Spock program the door controls, no sneaking away this time!"

Jim gave him is most beatific smile, put his arms behind his head and wiggled on the biobed for maximum comfort. He had always loved a challenge.


End file.
